


Very Bad Boys

by Pseudonymous_Entity



Series: Something Wicked [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Avalon - Freeform, Dark, Dark Harry, Dark Magic, Demons, Demons., Diary Horcrux, Diary Tom, Draco Flirts With his Own Reflection, Draco Likes to Piss off Tom, Draco fights with Lucius, Draco flirts with Harry to piss off Tom, Draco is Attracted to Power, Draco is Attracted to Pretty Things, Dragonkind., Dragons, Dumbledore ain't a saint, Dumbledore is a Jerk, Dumbledore's Mistakes Come Back to Haunt Him, F/M, Ferals., Flirty Draco, Fooling, Gen, Harry Draco and Tom form an Alliance. That just happened., Harry Knows More Then he Lets On, Harry Purrs, Harry Really Wants to Burn the World to Ashes, Harry Snaps, Harry Talks to Dragons, Harry forms an Alliance, Harry has a Food Fight with Death Eaters in the Minsirty Atrium, Harry has enough, Harry is a Cute Dark Lord in Training, Harry is a Prodigy, Harry is a Secret Baddass, Harry is a tiny baddass, Harry says FTW, Harry tortures Tom who totally gets off on it, Hidden Secrets, I really need to stop with the tags., Independent Draco, Life is unfair, Lots of Twins, Lucius is Pretty Cool for a Deatheater, M/M, Manipulating, Manipulative Dumbledore, No one is sure what Draco's sexuality is, OMG how the hell many tags have I put?, Other Magical Schools, Power Hungry Draco, Pretending, Pureblood Politics, Revenge, Secret Training, Snape is a baddass, Sneaking, Teen Tom Riddle, The Wizarding World is Clueless, Tom Riddle lives in the school without getting caught, Tom and Harry duel. A lot. Sometimes it's actually foreplay., Tom is a bastard, Tom is possessive as all hell, Triwizard Tournement, Unfair twists and turns, Unlikely Friendships, Voldemort is Confused, Well Meaning Dumbedore, Werewolves., Who the Fuck Knew?, everyone has secrets, no one is who they say they are, no really, not everything is as it seems, soul bonds, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonymous_Entity/pseuds/Pseudonymous_Entity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his friends turn on him when his name comes out of the Goblet of Fire, Harry seeks out the one person who can help him regain control of his life and teach the world to treat him with respect. Tom Riddle. Apparently the diary wasn't as destroyed as everyone was led to believe. Revenge. Dark!Harry. Manipulative!Dumbledore. Teen!Tom. SLASH</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alliances, Choices, Manipulations and Dragons

Sometimes I don't want to get better,

Sometimes I can't be put back together,

Sometimes I find it hard to believe,

There's someone else who could be, just as messed up as me

A lissome boy with inky hair stooped over a bubbling cauldron in an abandoned classroom. Pale yellow light reflected on his face, showing lips pulled between white teeth absently. Emerald orbs rimmed with thick dark lashes shined with curiosity and determination. His attention flickered between the heating liquid and a set of notes on the desk beside him.

From the outside looking in one might see an avid potions researcher seeking a place to work without disturbance. One might see a student working diligently to better their-self at a subject in which they perform less than adequately. One might see a prankster readying a potion of their own invention to reek havoc on these hallowed halls. What one might not see, after casually glancing in, is that something life altering was progress.

No turning back now.

Harry Potter was going to change the world. Right now. In this moment. And then they would see.

Dumbledore with his ever twinkling eyes and subtle manipulations. Hermione, whom he hoped choked on her self-serving ideals. Ron and Draco, both of whom teased him for his girly face and his moniker (the-boy-who-live and more recently Slytherin's heir) respectively.

He was tired of everyone walking on eggshells around him. Speaking down to him in soft condescending tones, soothing his worries with pats on the head and promises of more information when he was ready. Of the small, humoring smiles when he requested passes to the restricted section or asked questions above his year. Apparently he was only the Savior of the Wizarding World when it suited them and at all other times he was a naive child who oughtn't know anything about the reality of the situation.

Well, no more. No more being underestimated. No more being ignored. Being used.

Harry spooned a small amount of potion into a vial and grinned wickedly. If he succeeded, they'd acknowledge him then. They'd see him then. He would be famous for his own merits and no one would dare mock him. Not for his looks or his short stature or his parentage. They would see him now. The real Harry.

He turned and stepped into a circle drawn on the stone floor with ashes and salt. Harry took a calming breath, brought the vial to his lips and tipped it just enough to taste. A series of thundering, rolling booms startled him. It took a great deal of self-control not to jump out of the circle as the world around him shimmered, blurred and swirled around him. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Harry immediately toppled over. Not quite the entrance he'd imagined.

"You're here..." a low voice whispered.

Rubbing the back of his head, face flushed with embarrassment, Harry sat up. To his left, across a large, wet hall stood the key to his success. The Yin to his Yang. His equal.

"Riddle." He greeted, saluting cheerily.

Harry stood and wiped the grime off his dark tunic and slacks. A grimace flickered across his face. Yuck.

"You're here." Riddle, eyes glimmering, calculating, observing, said again.

"Apparently."

"In my diary."

"Yes."

Tom took a single step forward and paused. "With me."

Harry grinned. "With you."

Tom Riddle shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled across the chamber. Harry began backing up, a tiny measure of alarm prodding at him in the back of his mind. Tom stopped a breath away, his left hand brushing the fringe from his forehead. Long fingers skittered across his face. Blue eyes met green and Harry felt his breath hitch, a shudder of apprehension flowing through him. He believed it was warranted, sixteen or not this was still Voldemort.

"Harry?"

"Yes. It's me Tom."

Riddle brushed fingers through Harry's hair and down his neck feeling his pulse point and back to his face.

"You managed to retrieve me from the girl. She stole me from his office you know. Dumbledore's. I don't remember how I got there Harry. Are you the reason why? "

"Yes. You've been asleep for a while now. I'm in my fourth year."

The hand cupped his cheek, slid along his jaw and allowed a pale finger to trace his lips.

"Why are you here Harry?"

Harry swallowed and ordered himself to breathe.

"They..." he trailed off searching for the proper words, "they think they know me. And using the information they have supplied, they dare to choose my future for me. The dare to judge me worth, my potential. The treat me like a shiny weapon one day and a naive child the next." He paused.

Riddle waited patiently, a peculiar, possessive gleam forming in his eyes.

"But they don't know me. None of them. They don't even try." as if in answer to his raging and confusing emotions, the pools of water rippled, the lights flickered and cracks spidered along the stones. Resentment and jealousy and bitterness and a mess of other emotions he'd never allowed himself to acknowledge radiated off him in a stormy aura. Years of frustration released from their chains of denial and self-loathing. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands hard, blood trickling from them.

"I am not some... some golden child with rose-coloured glasses and hopeful dreams. I've seen the world. The real world. I lived in it. This..." He gestured around them as well as he could with Riddle standing so close, "this is a fantasy. All their talk of equality and understanding and tolerance. They only tolerate people like them. And...and if you're different...if you're truly special...they mock you. They fear you. They try to manipulate you..."

He closed his eyes, took a breath, opened them and raised his vial with the remaining potion in it. "Freedom."

Harry handed it over.

Riddle took it with his right hand and stared. "You would release me?"

"I've seen reality. I'm doing my best to change it to suit my needs. I need a new ending, the previous one was less than satisfactory. And, in any way, I've seen enough to know what I'm doing."

"What could you have seen? You're only a child."

He smiled bitterly. "Am I?"

Sharp eyes focused on him.

"Harry?"

Said boy tilted his head, eyes hardening. ""Why should we have to stand in the corner, suffering in silence while everyone else walks around with painted smiles on their faces, wearing mass-produced rose-coloured glasses like everything is right in the world? Like everything is okay? Fuck that. Misery is a selfish bitch and so am I."

Tom's lips twitched, unknown to Harry, he'd been ranting in Parseltongue. He ran his free hand through Harry's inky locks and pulled him into a strange embrace. A hug, Harry supposed. Though he hadn't had enough in his life to really be certain.

Tom whispered quietly, "I will show you the darkness they fear so and then I shall use it to free you from your cage of synthetic light..."

He was pushed back gently, just enough to come face to face with Riddle.

"Do you know who I am? Who I will become?"

Harry stared back, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"Yes."

His back hit the wall and cold lips crashed on to his. Green eyes widened then closed. Fingers pulled his hair in a vice like grip and a tongue coated with the rest of the potion flicked into his mouth. The world blurred around them, it spun and reformed into a shadowed room with a cauldron in one corner and two dark-haired orphaned boys standing together, in a newly made, fragile, alliance, within a circle painted in salt and ashes.

It was easy to put the change in his character and habits to preparation for the tournament. Some said he felt guilty about cheating or he was frightened and studying like mad. That he was sulking for being ignored by the majority of his house and indeed the school. Which, according to several pissed off Hufflepuffs, the cheating bastard deserved. No one noticed how far the subtle shifts went. No one noticed the hours he spent, supposedly alone. No one thought anything of him distancing himself from his friends. The teachers remarked in passing that he was doing much in classes, that he was often seen in the library or that he was more reserved/ Growing, they would say. Or, perhaps, finally taking things seriously, said others. A day would come when the world would look back on these moments, the calm before the storm, and wonder how they ever managed not to see it coming.

Because while they were off gossiping and insulting and belittling and skipping on their merry way, Harry Potter was planning plans and dreaming dreams.

And he was far from sulking.

"Again!"

Harry shifted to the left and missed a flash of blue, then another. A third made him drop the floor and roll to avoid a fourth. The ground he vacated seconds before darkened nearly black by a fire spell of some sort. He reflected this would be easier if he knew what was being cast at hi, then he could try to fight back. As it was Tom, being the sadistic jerk he was, insisted on casting silently. Harry's healing abilities had increased dramatically in the last two weeks. It wasn't as if he could explain away fractures and dramatic blood loss. Students got into fights but not like this and certainly not every night. It also wouldn't be the best idea to tell them he was practicing with a sixteen year old from fifty years in the past.

"Damn." Harry hiss and clutched his arm only to be hit in his shoulder.

Cursing again he ducked behind what was left of a desk and imagined all the curses he was learning just so he could use them on Tom. Not that he didn't enjoy the bastards company. But damn it to Merlin that stinging hex was vile.

"If you didn't want to be hit you oughtn't to have day dreamed. I should have killed you. You would have deserved it. Now get out here and try again."

Harry grit his teeth and flung himself from his hiding place.

Tom Riddle stood on the other end of the room, only the slightest sheen of sweat, dressed in all black long sleeved tunic and trousers. He stood with his his feet a foot apart, eyes flicking from his opponent to his surroundings. Harry stood with one foot in front of the other, weight balance, knees a bit bent, his wand poised to block attacks rather than fire him. One a deadly predator, one an adapting nomad. Tom was all about domination and mental manipulations. If he couldn't kill you straight out he had you kill yourself by wearing down your concentration with intimidation and taunting. Instead of keeping you're head in the game you let your emotions rule your responses and he reaped the benefits accordingly.

Harry on the other hand was a miss-mash of defensive and evasive maneuvers. His spells were powerful when he managed to get an offensive one out, his shield spell and reflective spells were durable, he was quick on his feet and reacted on instinct. His entire strategy was survival. He avoided getting hit and used his endurance and speed to wear down his opponent. The more tired they were the sloppier their spell-work, the more he could risk firing an offensive spell of his own and the more likely he would best you. The two fighting styles together made for long, violent matches.

Both Harry and Tom were strong willed, powerful, stubborn and fueled by a thirst. A thirst to prove themselves. A yearning for strength and power to protect themselves. They were special and they knew it and soon the world would acknowledge it, on it's knees. In chains. At their feet. Because they had an understanding that only the one could provide the other. The bullying. The feeling of being at another's mercy. The manipulations of others. The gossip and insults and constant fight to get any recognition. The knowledge of being superior and the fury at being ignored or used or disrespected. They didn't seek justice, they sought vengeance. Any why shouldn't they?

Contrary to Dumbledore's ramblings of morality, revenge was only human.

"Again!"

Shield, duck, sidestep, shield, reflect, dodge, sidestep, dodge, reflect, shield, expelliarmus, incendio, reflect, duck, roll, jump, duck, shield...

But Harry hadn't revealed all his secrets.

"Cogita Multiplicamini." He whispered.

Tom paused as replicas of himself surrounded him, wands twirling, faces smirking. He cast a quick Finate Incantatum and raised a brow when they didn't disappear.

"Incarcerus! Inpedimenta! Bombarda! Rictusempra!"

He jerked to the right and swore when his reflections shot off spells of their own. On the defensive for the first time this session he ducked and shot back another string of curses. Again and again, only for the same curses to be shot back , by himself. It mused it was like a very strange and deadly therapy session to cure self loathing.

He turned his head at movement in the corner of his eye only to be hit with a spell. Tom scowled at Harry from the floor and waved his wand to cancel the spell.

Harry cocked his head, utterly calm and flicked his wand.

"Renati Daemonium."

Tom's eye widened. He was hit before he could remember the shield spell for it.

Silence.

Tom lay on the ground staring blankly up at the ceiling. Then the memories started. He was four and the older kids at the orphanage locked him outside for the night. He was seven and the cook held in arm in boiling water. He was nine and pinned down on a bed by two attendants, screaming while a priest attempted to exercise him.

His body shuddered violently. The curse lifted. He tried to sit up.

"Crucio!"

He dodged.

"Crucio!"

Harry dropped, blood fell from his lips as his teeth dug into them trying to with hold screams. Thirty seconds later he gave that up. Five minutes later the spell released.

Tom crossed the floor quickly, bleeding and bruised from his own injuries. He straddled Harry and ran his long fingers across his face. Harry shook his head and regain enough clarity to feel lips searing against his, hips grinding against him and hear a moan escape his lips. Cuts, sprains and gashes scraped on the floor, the burns and glass and splinters of wood completely forgotten around them. Tom kissed down his neck then reclaimed his mouth. He twined his fingers in inky hair and pulled Harry's head back to attack his throat. He bit and Harry gasped. Another kiss. Hard and mean and dominating. Feral groans and a fierce wild need to control and claim the other.

Finally Tom pulled away, both panting, cheeks flushed and sweating from fighting.

From torturing the other. From lust.

He grinned down at Harry, eyes shining with approval, desire and dark possessiveness. Mind filled with harsher curses, more violent hexes and a longing to hear the other scream, the other hurt and be hurt. Being at his mercy, even for the sort time it was, seeing that cruel, calculating, pleased look on Harry's face while he lay at his feet had him pumped up with adrenaline.

"Again." Tom growled.

Harry pulled his knees to his chest and kicked Tom off.

"Incendio!"

"Prego! Immobilus!"

"Vind-lashio!"

Tiny cuts and slices swept up Toms body, blood staining his black clothes darker, soaking them against his skin. Sticking to them and pulling away more skin each time he moved, his sweat leaking salt into them, stinging. He flicked his wand and Harry was flung into the air, spun and hit the wall with a crack.

Three hours later, with ten minutes to spare until curfew, Harry entered his common room. Fresh clothes, bruises faded, cuts healed, bones repaired. He made no attempts to engage in conversation and his house mates ignored him for the most part. Though he wouldn't have noticed if they did may him attention. Unless it hindered his plans, it didn't matter. This childish need to know what others were up to and who was speaking with whom or who fought with whom...it did nothing for him. His mind spun with calculations and strategies and plans. While others were struggling in class he was getting most spells by his third try and spending the remaining call periods assessing his class mates. Some of them had assessed him in return. Which lead to a shaky ceasefire between himself and the Slytherins. For the most part, some of them mocked him for his placement in the Tournament but the rest lost the desire when it became clear he didn't care and didn't notice. While the rest of the school carried on as usual, the Slytherins were watching him. They watched him study. They watched him research. They watched him improve in classes. They watched him dodge spells in the halls when disgruntled classmates tried to hex him. They watched him cut them down with his words. They watched the dull indifference he regarded the world with shine in his killing curse eyes. They watched and they calculated and they wondered.

Because even though, in the past, there had been public confrontations between members so their house and Potter and his friends. Even though he, until now, been the poster child Of Gryffindor and the light. Slytherins were known as the cunning and ambitious for a reason. Recognizing power was like breathing. Recognizing changes in social structure was like drinking water. Things they had always known to do. If Harry Potter was separating himself from his house willingly, they wanted to know why. He should have tried to get back in his friend's good graces weeks ago. He should have been taking his anger out on Malfoy. He should have dulled eyes, and sullen disposition and lack of motivation in class. There ought to have been signs of his displeasure. What they saw, what no one else seemed to notice, was the light shining in his eyes. The straight back and head held high. The narrowed eyes and tightened jaw and cold, hard avoidance of everyone. They could almost feel his power growing. They didn't need to know how. They knew the signs of exhaustive training, of confidence in one's abilities, the sure steps of one who has chosen their path. The question wasn't how he was doing it.

The question was why.

...demons lay in waiting, tempting me away

oh how i adore you

oh how i thirst for you

oh how i need you

The way you make me feel, I've never felt so real

Silver eyes followed Potter, more closely than usual. Which was saying something. There had been a time Draco Malfoy would have killed to get his attention. He went as far in that direction as he dared, it worked. Until recently. Until this year. And it wasn't him specifically that was being shunned, it was the entire school. He had hoped to bring Potter attentions on himself again when he concocted those silly badges. Not very Slytherin but perfect bait for a Gryffindor. At least, it should have been. Potter only raised an eyebrow, something that could be amusement flickering in his eyes before he continued on his way. Everyone else either dismissed it or didn't notice but Draco did. It said a lot of things if you knew what to look for. The first being that Potter wasn't interested in even keeping up the appearances of a rivalry with him. That Potter didn't find it worth his concern, which meant he thought he had more important things to worry about. That he allowed Draco to see his amusement said something else as well. So that brought him here, leaning against a wall on the seventh floor, arms crossed. Waiting.

No one knew Harry Potter like he did. He knew what pleased him, what made him angry, what annoyed him. He knew what food he didn't like. What his favorite shirt was. His utter dislike for being told what to do. His dissatisfaction. His inability to be happy. Draco knew and he watched and he kept it in mind. You never knew when such things came in handy. So when the slightest changed occurred in Potter, Draco noticed instantly. He observed and calculated and figured out the why's and the how's. That was the only way to act accordingly, wasn't it? You can't taunt someone if you don't know what makes their blood boil. Who they were in favor with, who they disliked, how they felt. You had to pay attention. This was how political battles were won in the background. How wars ended before they started. How rebellions were squashed. You had to pay attention.

At precisely half an hour to curfew a door materialized on the opposite wall and Potter stepped out. He zeroed in on Draco right away, which had been expected. Draco raised his hands, empty, and step away from the wall and into the light of the dimly lit hallway. They stared at one another for a moment. Neither saying anything. It wasn't too long ago when they would have hexed each other if a chance like this came. Now they both studied the other, pondering their next move.

"I want to know what's going on."

The Gryffindor opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and tilted his head. Slowly Potter paced around him. Which, yes, was unnerving. It was cat-like and predatory. Not something he'd ever seen in the boy before.

Flickers of something rippling out every so often. One loop around him. Two. It build up. Sweat gleamed on his pale skin and Draco's breathing became labored. He knew this feeling. It was dark magic. Powerful magic. Potter stopped beside him, took hold of his hand and pulled him to the door and to the room inside. Draco couldn't find it in himself to even be suspicious of his motives.

Inside a very large dueling arena was set up. With Potter's increase in reflexes, which were already fabulous from playing Seeker, and his growing strength in class, some sort oftraining room was expected. Potter stepped behind him, left arm sliding around Draco's chest to hold him closer, right hand following his right arm down until it clasped around his wrist. He raised Draco's right arm and pointed it toward the dummies across the hall.

"Can you feel it Draco?" The shorter boy murmured against his ear.

Potter rested his chin on Draco's shoulder and whispered a spell. Electricity swirled down his arm and out his hand. It spiraled, igniting the air in sparks until it hit the wall and exploded. Draco brought in a shaky breath. That feeling was amazing. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He was light headed, giddy, a feral smile lighting his face.

"Again." He ordered, haughtily.

Potter snickered and whispered another spell. And another. And another.

"Again."

The build up of magic left Draco breathless. It was intoxicating.

"How are you doing this?" He managed to ask.

Potter clucked his teeth, left hand sliding up Draco's throat forcing his head back.

"You feel it. You want it. I can tell."

Draco tried to breath in gulping breaths.

"The question, the real question, is what you are willing to do to have your own piece of it. Think Draco, there doesn't have to be a light side and dark side in this world. There are those with power and those without it. You aren't weak Draco. You are clever. You were raised to know the politics of this world, the social aspects of it, the subtle manipulations, the connections, the feuds. You know it all. Why let all that precious knowledge go to waste, waiting around for your father to die so you can use it? Yo could use it now. With us."

"Us?"

"I decided neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort quite had what suited my needs, so I formed another side. You could be a part of it Draco. We could use your talents."

Power rolled and crashed in Draco's veins, his bones rattling with the echoes, his spine tingling, electricity raking down his back, heart shivering and pulsing with it. There's no way he could give this up. This feeling. The thought of never tasting it again was unbearable.

Draco Malfoy had done his best to be what the world required of him. What his father required of him. What his house required of him. But he had been living his life for everyone else and if continued on this path, chosen for him, he would serve his father's master one day. He couldn't stand the thought of bowing at another person's feet, no matter how powerful. He may be an arrogant jerk, but he was arrogant jerk with an extensive knowledge of poisons, dark magic, forbidden magic, a huge library of the stuff at his disposal in the family manor, large familial connections and an obsessive, ambitious streak.

He wanted to be the best. Without argument. Not for his last name, not for his status or his wealth or his position in his house. He wanted to be, undeniably, the best. The fact Potter could read his soul so thoroughly was frightening...and fascinating. He was vaguely aware Of the warmth leaving his back and Potter reappearing in front of him, holding out his hand.

"Do you want to fight to be a part of the ruling class in a world you don't even like? Or do you want to tear the world down and rebuild it to your liking?"

Another boy stepped out of the darkness in the corners of the room. He must have been watching all the while. As he watched the boy walk to stand beside Potter he noted something. They looked very similar, though one was a taller, fairer skin version with cool blue eyes and hair parted to the left. The other, messy inky hair, killing curse green eyes, shirt partially unbuttoned showing tanned skin. The other, the one he didn't know, dressed from head to toe in black, skin covered. Opposites, but sides of the same coin.

He wanted... no he needed to know who this other boy was. He needed to know what brought about this change in Potter. He needed to know where they were going with this. He needed to be a part of it, to feel that power, to control it, to bend it to his will. In that moment he would do anything Potter asked of him if it meant he could get a piece of this for himself. Anything.

He raised his chin arrogantly.

"I'm in."

To his credit the Malfoy heir took meeting the sixteen-year-old embodiment of a piece of The Dark Lord's soul rather well. His Slytherin instincts told him it didn't matter how that came about and unless one of them brought it up he wouldn't ask. Tom approved of his attitude. He would. To Harry's delight this was one of the last times Tom and Draco got along. For whatever reason every topic they brought up which both of them hand some ability in would devolve into a testosterone fueled battle of cave-man-like proportions. After which they'd look at Harry as if asking which had won the fight. Harry would choose whomever had the opinion he preferred. They had yet to realize this and so the winner would be as smug as humanly possible to the loser until the next contest between them.

Apart from this awesome source of entertainment Draco ended up being a fantastic choice on Harry's part. The blonde tackled any task given to him with relish. Within an hour of his arrival to the RoR that first night he'd drawn up a large chart of wizarding hierarchy on a white board the room provided. The Slytherin loved it and Harry had yet to tell him of its muggle origins. That was probably for the best.

And so while Tom plotted and researched during the day, Draco and Harry analyzed their fellow students. They passed at the tops of their classes. And they began dueling in the corridors to everyone's relief. They were in fact using it to practice some of what they were learning with Tom but doing it like this in the open gave them a lovely adrenaline rush. They came up with outrageous things to be offended by and called each other ridiculous insults with dramatic hand gestures. It was all very fun and Harry found himself wishing he'd become friends with the blonde sooner. Though had gotten along better the end of last year he had really missed out on the first two years of his school experience. He was a wealth of information and far more funny than he ever would have guessed. In one week the Malfoy heir had acquired him a PR Rep, an account manager, a better wardrobe and correspondence courses from Durmstrang for Dueling and Manipulative Arts, or Advanced Mind Magics as it was called in 'The History of Forgotten Magicks'. Harry had tackled the taller boy with a hug. There were a lot of testosterone fights that day.

Toms had them working on their memory, problem solving and concentration with magical puzzles and problems he set up during the day for them to work out. Some of them they had to work together and some of the problems were individual. All three of them acquired journals they used during nightly meditations before bed. They were to right down any and all thoughts that occurred while attempting to keep their minds focus on a single visualized object and nothing else, allowing nothing to interfere. Their progress was measured by the amount of stray thoughts recorded on a given night. Harry visualized chasing a snitch, Draco stacking a card castle and Tom visualized balancing on the top of a mountain.

Harry tried not to analyze the reasons behind this too much.

The day before the first task things changed again. At breakfast Harry sat at the small round table set up in the hall for socializing, it was meant encourage foreign relations he thought. No one used it often so Harry began claiming it for his own. He was disliked by most of the school so no one minded. This morning he pulled out his research for the task, he still didnt know what he was preparing for!, when the entire hall heard an argument at the Slytherin table. This was a history-book sort of occurrence as the Slytherins never argued in public. From what he could see Draco had set up some research of his own and one of the older years had spilled a drink on his book. Harry blanched. The blond was very serious about books. No one could hear what was being said after the first few words. Someone must have put up a silencing barrier.

Abruptly it was over. Draco packed up his things, stepped onto the bench, and proceeded to walk over the table and down the other bench and the up the bench and across the table of the Griffindor table. Everyone stared. The blond stopped when he reached Harry's little table. He bowed formally.

"Would it be permissible to study with you here?"

Harry nodded numbly, distracted by the Bulgarians copying the Malfoy heir one-by-one led by their champion Victor Krum, followed quickly by Fleur Delacour and the Beaubatons girls and Cedric Diggory with three Hufflepuff friends. He didn't know how to react to this sudden display of solidarity. It must have shown because Draco winked at him then scooted closer.

"So... how about them dragons?" He drawled.

The other champions glanced at each other, pulled up their book bags and brought out their own research for the first task and began swapping theories. The merits of illusions versus trickery versus offensive spells were discussed with vigor, swapping experiences and recommending reading. Cedric revealed he knew of several useful books in the restricted section and Fleur asked about having a planning session later that night. Some sort of silence barrier had been set up around the table and no other students were permitted to sit with them. It was a very clear sign of support to the rest of the school and the teachers.

They finished their meals and spent the day in the back of the library with silencing spells up. Once again no other students were allowed within the group, though Hermione attempted to speak with Harry several times. He met several students from Durmstrang he found he liked and could imagine Tom encouraging him to 'network'. So he did. He learned names, backgrounds, school experiences, home-life and preferences toward magic. Everyone was surprisingly eager to speak with him about what ever topic he chose. Draco informed him it was because they were all very worried about from his behavior. The fact he was the youngest of champions and small even amongst those of his own age only made it worse. They felt bad for him and now that he seemed to be opening up to them they wanted him to know he could talk to them. Harry would, of course, use this to his advantage. Unfortunately at the end of the night end still wasn't sure what method he would use and he only had the rest of the night to practice whatever it was. Even for his famous luck this was cutting it damn close. Turns out he was worried for nothing.

Draco nudged Harry with his elbow and passed over a small book on the similarities between large reptiles, namely large serpents, such as Basilisks and... dragons. Dragons were serpents. He could speak to serpents.

Harry could have kissed him.

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

The day of the first task was a day of many unlikely firsts. It dawned obscenely bright and clear which was cautiously and perhaps foolishly taken as a good omen by the soon-to-be audience of students and foreign officials. The first first in what was to become an annoying amount of numbered firsts was the surprise arrival of yet another school to observe the proceedings. Students chittered and chattered in a polite motion of curiosity that swelled into a high-wind experience of excitement and shock. The Viridian Jr Knights Academy of Alchemical Sciences and the High Magicks was present and for those not in the know, which was the entire muggleborn population, this was a very big deal. The Viridian was not only a prestigious institution of learning but also a place, an archiplegeo of islands. The Muggles once called it Avalon, the home to the Lady of the Lake and final resting place of Arthur. Purebloods of all nationalities were sending frantic last minute messages to their heads of family that had not chosen to attend. Several were seen gussying up on their way to the stands. The rumours and competitiveness was at an all time high."

"Can you believe it? Can you imagine what it's like?"

"You know I went to the Trials two summers ago."

"I heard Blaise Zabini in Slytherin has a cousin who goes there."

"Do you think they're here to issue invitations?"

"Oh I hope I get one! The boy with the delegates is gorgeous I bet they all look like that."

From Draco's seat he could view the judges box. The blonde aristocrat ignored the school headmasters in favor of two new faces to the far left. A man and two women who might be twins whispered amongst themselves for a moment then slowly began speaking with the other judges in the box. They were very young looking he noted, he would have thought they were students if they weren't seated in the judges box. Of course where it concerns The Viridian, or magical beings in general really, you couldn't judge one's ages on their looks.

His own father was thirty seven and still looked his late twenties, as he had since he was sixteen as he smugly told anyone who would listen.

The young man who probably wasn't a young man had golden hair and pale golden skin, even seated he was obviously tall. Though he couldn't make out his eyes from here the look on his face was one of constant observation and he rarely took his gaze of his surroundings even as conversed with females next to him. His posture was very straight and proper. The two beside him looked nothing like him. They were both petite, rather like Harry, with odd skin the colour of pale sand and dark hair, but after that their similarities ended. One of them kept her hair long and currently had it pulled back into two high ponytails on the crown of her head. She wore a fitted men's suit and a medical mask covered the lower half of her face. Her eyes though, even from this far away he could see them. A vibrant violet. Her twin kept her dark hair straight, glossy and chin length. While she wore no mask her eyes were covered with darkened glasses and a guard he noticed only now stood behind her holding up a parasol to keep the sun off her. Dressing against gender norms appeared to be a family tradition, though rather than a suit she wore loose slacks, a long tunic and boots. All three of them were dressed utterly in black.

"Draco what happened to your face? Get caught snogging someone's girl?"

The blonde paused to smirk at Theodore Nott who was staring at his jaw appreciatively. He rubbed a pale hand over it and smirked.

"Something like that."

He endured the brown haired boy's teasing for a bit then returned to his task. The judges.

His silver eyes watched their interactions and those of the people beside them carefully. He'd been charged with providing a memory for a pensive to Tom afterwards and every detail mattered. The French headmistress appeared torn between amusement and irritation at their presence while Kakaroff and Bagman were obviously very pleased. It was Dumbledore's reaction he found most interesting. He sat directly next to the woman with the parasol and they did nothing but argue as far as he could tell. Oh they had polite smiles on their faces but he was a Malfoy and he knew sugar covered poison when he saw it and these two were intent on infecting the other with well spoken venom. They could only be discussing one thing. Politics.

Low, feral laughter rang out, causing shiver's down the backs of many. The woman in the parasol was amused. Draco, trying to ease his own nerves from the sound, wondered how Dumbledore could willingly be so close to and insult someone who could make a sound like that. That wasn't human. Draco eyed her carefully, this would bear looking into. He knew a the important things about the Viridian of course, he was a high level pureblood after all, but he wasn't sure who she... Then it clicked. Serephina Tabbris. Leader of one of the Viridian political factions and current Battle Magicks professor at The Viridian. He may have began salivating. The things she knew! The questions he could ask!

Of course she was here. She was Queen of the Dragonkind. The Morgan.

He noted black uniformed students beyond the three newcomers when a loud voice encouraged the audience to take their seats and began welcoming them to the first task of the tournament. Draco watched each champions turn with intense focus, any and all weakness would be remembered and brought up later in one of his charts. Though they may be on friendly terms, this was a competition and it was agreed amongst the trio that if Harry was going to be forced to participate he'd bloody well win while he was at it.

Tom insisted it was an excellent excuse to show off his more secretive talents. Draco refused to associated with anyone less the best and with his recent public declaration of support for Harry he intended to make sure Harry's superiority was obvious and the damn midget better not think of doing less than perfect. The small Griffindor had only smiled at him fondly when the blonde informed him of this.

"I shall have to put on a good show then, if it will please you so much." The look on Tom's face face was more than worth the bruises.

He blinked. Only one more champion to go. The Slytherin leaned forward eagerly, or as eager as a Malfoy was allowed to look in public. Time for the main event. Harry better have one Hell of a show planned, you couldn't wish for a better audience.

"Harry Potter!"

 

I'm not afraid to cry from this cocaine sickness

I'm not afraid to die, let the good book witness

I ask and give none, nope, no forgiveness

The day of the dead and you're on our hit list

 

Harry sat on the floor of the tent, legs crossed and eyes closed. He concentrated on breathing, pushing all of his thoughts into Snake Language. It occurred to him, vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind in the shadowy places where you stuff things you'd rather not think about, that if he hadn't chosen to align himself with Tom and Draco he could be walking to his death in a few moments. How lonely would have been with no one to talk to? How much anger would he have repressed in his chest each morning? He could imagine it if he tried hard enough.

When he first entered the wizarding world it was like an answer to a prayer. He was somewhere he belonged, he was wanted and respected. And it was all a lie. This was a world full of pretenders and they only pointed their painted smiles at him if he played along. But Harry had never been good at pretending to be something he wasn't.

In his first year Voldemort had offered him a place if he was willing to be a servant. He wasn't. Dumbledore offered him a place if he was willing to be a puppet. He wasn't. At least Voldemort noticed this straight off and didn't try again. It wasn't until he experiences down in the Chamber of Secrets in his second year that it truly occurred to Harry that he could do this. He could get people to listen to him. He could even have them fear him. And Tom Riddle was just like him, even if he did eventually become Voldemort. He was right. They were quite alike. And for the entire summer and all of third year he couldn't stop thinking about it.

When Dumbledore refused to let him stay at the castle for the summer break prior to fourth year he grinned and pretended to let it go. When Dumbledore refused to respond to the letters Harry sent him after the accident at the Quidditch Cup, Harry smiled and pretended to let it go. When Dumbledore refused to get him out of the tournament Harry said nothing and pretended to let it go. When Dumbledore refused to provide him with training for the tournament Harry left his office in shambles.

If the world was so wiling to turn it's back on him it was only fair he return the favor. Right?

"Harry Potter."

The small Griffindor, soaked in his shadows, strode to the tent opening and walked into the arena.

It was very quiet at first. The leather of the dragon's wings creaked, its breath low rumbles rather like a really good muggle stereo with the bass all the way up. Wind whipped through off and on. No one in the audience said a word. Which was fine. They needed to sit back and watch the show. He stood tall and did his best to emulate a mixture of Draco and Tom at their most arrogant.

"Lady Dragon, may I speak with you?"

Pale brown eyes turned toward him and he was frozen in their gaze. Harry wondered if casually mentioning his blood was poisoned by Basilisk venom which didn't make for a good snack would be cowardly. Her tail whipped, Harry cursed and ducked.

"Who speaks?"

I do you over grown lizard stop swiping your damn tail at me, Harry thought agitated.

"They call me Harry Potter."

She raised up a bit and leaned closer to him.

"Why did they not present you to me earlier little one?"

"I was not to know of you."

Hot air lashed out of her large jaws in a huff.

"They would keep one who speaks from us?"

He could just imagine what Ron's reaction to this would be. Then he grimaced. He was likely to find out.

"They wished to force us to attack one another."

The dragon raised up to a sitting position then on to her clawed feet. Her head lowered, she growled irritably and paced in the small enclosure. Harry jumped out of the way of her tail many times. If he wasn't afraid she'd grow tired of him and take him as a snack any minute this would really be an excellent way to exercise.

Apparently she found this insulting.

"Take the false egg wizard that is not a wizard. You will speak with me later."

Harry bowed very low. He heard a gasap from the crowd and he looked up to see what was going on. The dragon was bowing back. A bloody dragon was bowing to him!

Keep his face blank and acting like he planned for this he turned then slowly walked toward the pile of eggs. The dragon moved out of his way and made no motion to prevent his progress. He picked up the golden egg, turned to face the audience and waited.

The crowd was on its feet.

Immediate quiet greeted him the medical tent. He waited patiently while he was checked over, they wouldn't find anything wrong with him. No injuries anyway. When he left he could see the judges having an argument in the box. After a moment there scores were announced. He was considering throwing a fit after Dumbledore gave him a six and cast a disappointed look in his direction when a strange girl dressed in black seated beside his headmaster raised her hand, paused to smirk at Dumbledore and shot a shimmering 10 into the air.

Who the Hell was that?

Dumbledore made his way toward him. Harry kept his face blank but scowled to his hearts content in his mindscape.

"Professor? How can I help you?"

"Harry...you must understand what you did was unnecessarily reckless. I would think your experience in your second year would be enough to remind you how cruel the world can be. I understand you wish to win and perhaps you couldn't think of anything else to do my boy but there will be no taking this back."

The old wizard placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"There are pieces of us, no matter how useful, in all of us that we must...repress. I know there are spots of darkness in your Harry, from your childhood and we both know that your life has been much easier in those moments where you kept them to yourself. Teenage rebellion is a part of life but reminding the world of the wizard who stole so much from it just to win a contest is selfish."

Harry flinched.

"You are a Griffindor boy. You chose that path yourself and now you must bear it and all that comes with it. This world looks to you for inspiration of what may happen even in the darkest of times..."

Stop talking.

"...as a public figure we must be conscious of how our actions effect the world around us. We can't afford to do as we please. You don't get to frighten people needlessly..."

Stop talking. He tried to take a step back and Dumbledore tightened his grip.

"...little Ginny Weasely? How must hearing the voice of the man who possessed her for a year be? Harry I think you need to step back and think about what you've done..."

A gloved hand wrapped around the headmaster's arm. The girl who gave him a score of ten. Harry watched Dumbledore eye her hand warily.

Interesting.

"He's lovely Albus but old men touching cute boys without their permission is generally frowned upon."

Dumbledore wrenched his hand away like it burned.

"Tabbris, pleasure to see you again. I'd thought you would get your students settled once the task ended?" He spoke through gritted teeth, clearly displeased with this woman's presence.

Harry blinked.

"Students? Are you a teacher's aid?"

The girl turned to face him and he was struck by how small she was, just a bit taller than him and he was quite short himself. She flashed a toothy grin.

"I am a lead professor and acting representative for The Viridian. Shall I introduce myself while Albus scrambles for a reason for me to stay away from you? I am Serephina Tabbris, titled Arcana Deorum of the d'Arc Clan, ruling class in The Viridian. I am very pleased to meet you, Harry Potter."

Harry bowed, on instinct more than any real understanding of her position. She just seemed like someone to bow to when you spoke to her.

"I am Harry Potter, titled The-Boy-Who-Lived and current student at Hogwarts. It is nice to meet you as well my lady."

Tabbris pet his hair with a gloved hand. He had an insane urge to purr.

"You are very cute."

Harry wasn't sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. He was pretty sure he blushed either way.

"We would like to speak with you privately," she gestured to some people standing behind her. A guard holding her parasol for her, a girl who had to be her twin wearing a medical mask and a very tall boy with golden skin and hair. "What do you say to that?"

He thought he might have actually growled when the headmaster chose that moment to regain his ability to speak and therefore meddle.

"I am afraid I ca not allow that Tabbris. Nothing personal but as Harry has no magical guardian here to represent him I feel I must stand for his privacy myself."

He stared. His privacy? What rubbish.

Tabbris pulled out an envelope and waved it in the air. "I have here a filed and sign request for meeting from the boy's magical guardian."

Dumbledore made to take it and a pale hand took it from his grasp. Draco held it up and smile sweetly.

"This should be delivered to the board of governors than shouldn't it? I can get right on that for you Lady Tabbris if it pleases you." The blonde bowed very quickly.

"Now there's a Malfoy right there. Is your father Lucius then?" The tall golden boy spoke for the first time.

Draco stood up taller and puffed up a bit. Harry snickered.

"Yes he is. I am his first born son."

Tabbris elbowed the golden boy.

"Right! I am Eridanous, Feral, first companion and advisor to Serephina Tabbris." Eridanous bowed and gave Draco a cheeky grin.

"Might I accompany you to find your father?"

The blonde tilted his head. "If you must."

He said it in a disinterested tone of voice but Harry could tell the Slytherin was soaking up the attention.

Tabbris turned to Dumbledore and made a shooing motion. "That will be all Albus thank you. I shall see you at dinner."

"Now," she said, looking Harry over as soon as they were alone. "Why don't you tell me about the dark magic stuck all over you?"


	2. Its Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonder what Draco and Eridanous get up to while Harry is talking to Tabbris?

You never really knew me at all...

I can't undo the things that led us to this place

But I know there's something more to us than our mistakes

you should've known me by now

You should've known  
********************************  
Draco studied the boy to his left out of the corner of his eye while together they made their way through the crowd. He was even taller than Draco had guessed and his skin really was a golden hue. Definitely not all human then. What did he call himself? A Feral? He wasn't positive about that term, it wasn't one he'd heard before. Of course when it came to the Viridian he was certain there were many things he wouldn't be altogether familiar with, however his father knew a good deal more about the Viridian than even the other old families. Surely he would know? There was his father now in fact.

Draco signaled the boy, Eridanous, to follow him. It was easy to do so as the boy had kept inappropriately close to him the entire journey. Did he honestly look that untrustworthy?

Well, he supposed he might.

"Father!" He called out with his voice raised just enough to be heard above the crowd but not enough to be unseemly.

The blonde lord turned toward him, Draco's mother on his arm.

"Draco?"

Draco bowed very quickly, the boy next to him copying his example.

"Father, I have a signed form requesting and granting permission for a meeting between Harry Potter and the representative from the Viridian. It's meant for the board of governors. I wouldn't play messenger boy but when I saw Dumbledore so interested in it I thought to bring it to you myself father."

Lucius Malfoy nodded in approval, taking the form into his hands and skimming it. Draco was surprised when his father's face froze a fraction. No one else would have seen it he was sure but he had known his father his whole life and he didn't miss the slight slip, not did he miss his mother strengthening her grip around his father's arm and his father's corresponding wince. He desperately wanted to laugh.

"Lady is here?"

Draco blinked, confused. " Er, Lady, father?"

Eridanous raised an eyebrow at his less than exemplary eloquence and Draco shot him a look, refraining from scowling.

"She would be dressed in mens clothing, all in black or dark pruple, with silver instruments hanging from a belt and a sarcastic, flippant attitude."

"Ah yes, father. She was the one who requested the meeting, I witnessed her and Dumbledore were having a bit of an argument before the tournament started and then one again when I appeared and offered to take the form to you. I don't think they like one another."

Narcissa made a polite cough covering what was certainly not a snort.

Lucius flashed his wife a small smile. "Indeed."

Draco cleared his throat and elbowed the man next to him before he could see anything else.

"Right. If I might greet you Lord Malfoy? Narcissa? It's been a long time since last we met."

Both of his parents stared. Draco turned his head and hid his a smile. They'd forgotten Eridanous was even there. Serves them right getting caught up gossiping where anyone could hear them. He noted their willingness to talk about Tabbris and obvious previous contact with the woman. They didn't seem upset she was here...merely suprised.

His father greeted the golden-haired man stiffly where as his mother gave him a rare hug.

"Eridanous! Is Edanaithne here as well?"

He made a face. "Certainly not."

Narcissa laughed. "Yes, you never did like her."

It took all of Draco's breeding not to fidget anxiously. He didn't know what Tabbris wanted with Harry and though he now knew the Griffindor wasn't nearly as dim and reckless as he had portrayed in the past the small brunette was still woefully underinformed with the ways of the wizarding world and he seriously doubted his awareness of just whom he was speaking to. And if he was honest he didn't trust the boy not to accidentally sign away his soul in a verbal contract or some other such nonsense. It was just the sort of thing that would happen to hum.

Draco blanched. Not that he worried about him. Not at all. The tiny fool could take care of himself. It wasn't his job to babysit the moron. Of course he'd have a tough time explaining to Tom just how Harry managed to sell himself or start a war or get himself killed.

Killed. Draco swallowed.

Oh Hell he would go and get himself killed wouldn't he? He'd say something utterly stupid and get himself beaten up and get stuffed in the bushes somewhere bleeding out. They could hide his body anywhere the grounds were huge. It'd be hours before anyone even thought to look. He took a breath. It hadn't been that long. He couldn't have gotten in trouble yet. Right?

Draco snuck a glance at his watch. It's been half an hour. Oh Merlin.

"Mother? Father? If you would excuse us I Really do think I ought to return to Potter's side. Who knows what mischief he can get up to speaking with royalty on his own. He needs someone to help him not make an ass of himself."

The blonde lord smirked, choosing to ignore the use of language, and gave his permission for his son's departure with an elegant wave of his hand.

"Do try to avoid a declaration of war. It would, I believe, make dinner awkward."

Draco, who had already started walking away, quickened his pace, face paling, Eridanous striding beside him and looking far too knowing for Draco's liking.

"What?" He snapped.

Eridanous gave him an infuriating grin. "I don't recall saying anything."

"You were certainly thinking it."

"Were you reading my mind?" He challenged, looking amused more than anything.

"I don't need to read your mind to see you're thinking things that aren't any of your business." Draco huffed, pushing through the crowd impatiently.

"I'm not saying a word."

"Good. There isn't anything to say."

Two Hufflepuff first years went flying as Draco shoved them aside, nearly running but not quite, head turning back and forth, silver eyes searching for a shock of messy black hair.

"I didn't say there was."

Was that Golden haired bastard really running backward beside him? He could turn back around and keep his facial expressions to himself thank-you-very-much.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes, that's what I said you imbecile. Good. That's it. End of the conversation. Now either help me find him or shut up." Draco growled.

He studiously ignored any snickering that may or may not have come from the golden-haired idiot.

AN: Questions? Comments? Limericks? Put it in a review!


	3. Predators, Letters, Manipulators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabbris, Aurors and Dumbledore oh my!

My mind wanders endlessly

On paths where she's leading me

With games she likes to play

And words she doesn't say

Not when we're alone

And she's dressed in black

"Oh I won't tell." Tabbris assured in that unnervingly soft voice, interrupting Harry's moment of panic. Rude.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why not?"

"Should I?" She purred, walking around him in a long slow stride that swayed like a flower in the wind or someone standing on a pier. He swallowed, tensing when she stopped behind him,. He had to fight down the urge to spin and keep her in his line of sight. Harry wasn't easily intimidated and he damn well wasn't going to act it.

Tabbris continued her odd walk around him, tilting her head slowly this way and that, leaning and dipping with a rhythm he couldn't hear. Like a wolf. Or a tiger. A predator hunting.

Shivers of fear clawed its way down his spine. It took all of his self control not to start shaking. To keep his breath even. He had the feeling this was a test and not the kind where failing was an option unless you wished to end your life.

Harry knew, now, watching her watch him through darkened glasses. He knew why Albus Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards alive, why he froze when this one took hold of his arm. It was because playing the game with this woman was like playing Russian Roulette with lightning. And Harry wasn't at all ready for this kind of game.

He'd never wanted a Slytherin to come to his rescue before in his life.

Obviously there was a first time for everything.

"Why do you ignore my letters? Refuse my invitations? No one else would dare. Have I managed to offend you, somehow?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin. When had she gotten behind him again? He needed to be more aware of where she was. It was dangerous not to be.

Harry sucked in a breath and willed his voice to come out even.

"I apologize my lady, I am unaware of any correspondence from yourself or anyone attempting to communicate with me on your behalf."

Soft leather-clad fingers lifted his chin. Tabbris moved closer to him, examining his face from just behind and to the right of him. She smelled obscenely good, like peppermint leaves and candy, and Harry couldn't decide if that was funny or disturbing. Both maybe.

"Are you that lazy when it comes to reading your mail?"

He swallowed again, finding the small fingers near his throat more and more threatening.

"No ma'am. I hardly receive any letters at all. Usually just some now and again during the summer from my friends."

She smiled in his peripheral vision.

"And your Godfather of course."

Harry nodded as much as he could with her hand holding his chin.

"Well yes he-"

His insides chilled. She knew. She knew he was in contact with Sirius.

The hand on his chin left and Tabbris reappeared in front of him, her guard doing impressive acrobatics to keep her parasol over her and the sun off.

"But no others?" She murmured it more to herself than to him but he nodded anyway.

"Well then, allow me to extend an invitation to you now. I do not know if you track such things but your written and practical exams in Defensive Magicks score very, very high each year, you are in the eightieth percentile for your school. Furthermore you test very well with practicals in every subject. This is worth noting because for most people, as you may or may not know, they have an affinity for a specific branch of magic and find it easier than the others. This, of course, shows in their exams when they are in school and in the strength of their spell-work when they are old enough for such things. For you to be so young and so adaptable is very interesting Harry Potter. My invitations, which I have sent every summer from your twelfth birthday, is for you to come to our Summer Trials. We have special training schools or camps if you will, during the summer holidays. I imagined you might find the more advanced magicks more to your liking and that perhaps they might manage to keep your interest enough for you to bother with the written work? That is why you only do the required minimum is it not? During the school year? Because it is obvious you understand it."

The sudden playful tone of voice and teasing smile had Harry aching from mental/emotional whiplash. Was this girl bi-polar or did she just want to see if she could get him to piss his pants?

"I...I'm flattered but surely there are better choices? I may score high enough with defense for my year but I know Hermione Granger who is in my year scores high in all of our classes and I've never heard of her receiving an invitation?"

Tabbris cocked her head to the side.

"You misunderstand. Harry Potter, you score in the eightieth percentile for Defensive Magicks. This is a collective score. It means that you score higher than eighty percent of the entire student body. Not just your year."

Harry stared, completely gobsmacked.

"That was my reaction as well." She grinned, showing off slightly pointed teeth.

"I see."

All his requests for extra credit work. His requests to attend higher classes or test early. All of Dumbledore's excuses... It was available to him all along. He could have trained with Tabbris at this school of hers in preparation for the tournament. Harry clenched his jaw. He already knew why he wasn't receiving his letters from Tabbris. Someone was keeping them from him.

And that someone was walking this way. With aurors.

"Aw they came to welcome us." Tabbris cooed.

Harry wasn't an expert on these things, but Tom had never once mentioned aurors as part of polite pureblood socializing. He was pretty sure he hadn't just skipped that lesson either.

A hand waved in front of him. He blinked and looked to the side. Huh, she can speak.

"You should consider uh breathing. Anytime now. You're...blue."

Harry immediately rasped in a breath.

"Yeah that might help."

It was Tabbris' twin. She was probably smirking at him underneath that medical mask of hers. Her violet eyes were dancing with amusement anyway.

"Er thanks."

She shrugged, glanced at the aurors, who were nearly on them now and gathering many looks from the crowd at this point, then looked back at him.

"Watch this."

With a toss of her long hair and a quick straightening of her bow tie, the strange girl approached the aurors. They saw her and scattered like coackroaches.

Harry snickered.

"Now, now Ambriel we're just here to talk..." A brown hair auror said, hands up in the universal sign of I-come-in-peace.

She made a mocking bow and sent a quick look to Tabbris, who what Harry guessed to be a nod of permission, and surveyed the aurors with dancing eyes.

"I can...see that. Friendly conversation just isn't the same without tea and uh...suspicious questioning at wand point."

The aurors shifted on their feet. The brown haired auror seemed to be the unofficial spokesman.

"I apologize Ambriel but Dumbledore had some concerns and we have to investigate them. At such a high profile event...it is our job...you won't be cross with us?"

"Why on earth would I be cross with you?" She asked, wide eyed. They looked relieved.

Harry got the impression that Ambriel knew exactly why she ought to be cross.

When the aurors began questioning Ambriel's presence Dumbledore decided he wanted to have another chat, thus he was shoved away from the group, the old man's hands like claws. Harry wanted to hit Dumbledore in the face but no one was asking him for his opinion. Pity.

In an interesting turn of events Harry was forcibly turned around by a new pair of hands before Dumbledore got a word out. He was seriously tired of being manhandled.

It was an out of breath Draco. Thank you Merlin. He allowed the blonde Slytherin to eye him up and down for whatever reason and twirl his around once more, one arm like a steel bar holding him tightly against the taller boy's chest and the other saluting cheekily at Dumbledore. He didn't seem to appreciate it.

"I regret to tell you sir, but if you didn't know, in accordance with the General School Guidelines instated 1812, in section 3 paragraph one specifically, you oughtn't be addressing Potter here without prior notice to his guardian and at least one other student present, especially in the er...bushes sir." The blonde eyed the headmaster suspiciously as if he may have been attempting molestation. Harry glanced up at his Slytherin friend and wondered if he mightn't be related to Tabbris somehow.

"And, of course, not at all if it isn't school related. Is this a school related matter sir? Because I would be more than happy to fill in as the required student chaperone if you've signed permission from his guardian handy." Draco beamed as if he wasn't threatening anyone.

Dumbledore smiled. "Mr. Malfoy I'm delighted to see this sudden burst of inter-house relations however I assure Mr. Potter and myself have spoken with on another privately on numerous occasions and he has, to my understanding, never found fault with me before."

Harry disagreed on that point. He found many faults with headmaster. He could write a limerick about them if he felt so inclined.

"Be that as it may sir, rules are rules!" The blonde practically sang.

"That they are, it's in the uh name and everything. And ya wouldn't be admitting to no rule breaking would ya Albie?"

Albie?

Dumbledore gave a smile that really was more of a grimace. He didn't seem pleased to have Ambriel inter the conversation.

"Ambriel. Thrilling to see you outside. In the fresh air. Not overwhelming I hope?"

Violet eyes narrowed.

"I got some special privileges. Good behavior and all that. The uh minister was happy to help me."

"Is that so?"

Tabbris leaned over, totally disregarding whatever her conversation might have been with two young aurors. They looked miffed at her lack of attention. She pointed off to the left.

"Speaking of which," She purred, "Here he comes now. Oh dear. He looks a tad upset with you. Whatever have you done?"

They watched Dumbledore race off.

"Spritely." She observed, then motioned for everyone to follow her. "Let's go eat. We can talk more than."

As soon as Harry and his new entourage was a good distance ahead of them Draco bent over, hands on his knees and let out gasping breaths he'd been holding in for far too long, he pressed one hand to his left side and gave a soft moan.

The golden-haired menace raised a brow.

"Side ache?"

"A bit."

"Winded?"

"Slightly."

Eridanous studied him. "Crises averted?"

"I believe so."

The man handed him a glass of water he got from Merlin knows where and clapped him hard on the back. Draco thought he might have bruised a lung as he choked on the water he'd started drinking. The look on the bastard's face proved he knew how much that hurt.

"Walk it off."

Draco scowled.


End file.
